


Guilty as Charged - Again!

by JoansGlove



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: It seems that I don't know when I'm well off - here's another completely AU fic about my time spent at Her Majesty's pleasure ;-P





	Guilty as Charged - Again!

**Author's Note:**

> With Massive thanks to Duchess - it was you and your flanter that spurred me to start writing this during a dull morning at work. And it was you who demanded that I finally finish writing it more than 2 years later!

 

JG listened intently as the Governor approached from the rear of the boiler room, counting the slow, purposeful steps as they grew in volume. An even dozen brought Ferguson to a halt right behind her and JG’s breath hitched in her throat as her whole body burned with helpless desire.

“Ah, Ms Glove, it didn’t take you long to forget your lesson did it?” The low, melodious voice flowed around JG’s head and a shiver of divine anticipation trickled down her spine.

“Time in here is somewhat elastic, Miss Ferguson,” she replied flippantly.

JG’s scalp prickled as she felt Ferguson’s fingers ruffle the soft spikes of her mohawk. “So are promises, apparently. Such an evocative style,” observed Joan, “but of course, for true authenticity you should pluck these sides instead of just shaving them.” Gloved finger tips tickled their way across her velvet skull and JG nearly melted.

 

Ferguson pressed herself against Joan'sGlove and gripped a handful of hair. “Tell me, what am I going to do with you? What do you think it will take for you to recognise the error of your ways, hmmm?” Before JG could answer, she yanked the prisoner’s head back. “How many other salacious tales have you written involving Miss Bennett and myself? How many more of these attempts at lewd fic-tion have you posted?”

JG swallowed hard. The Governor’s voice, hot in her ear, was doing marvellous things to her cunt. “One,” she lied.

“Liar!” Ferguson's grip tightened. “How many?”

“Three, four maybe…” her words dried up as Ferguson’s night stick appeared at her throat. The unforgiving angle of the shaft and handle cradled her trachea and she felt a strong arm wrap itself around her upper chest to maintain pressure. JG’s thighs clenched and she sagged against Ferguson in a haze of longing. Did this woman have any idea what she did to her?

 

“Come now, Joan'sGlove, this is your opportunity to tell me the truth, I won’t tolerate dishonesty from anyone – you must be aware of that?” The husky, sensuous tones poured into her ear and JG shivered as if Ferguson had just taken the lobe between her teeth and tugged. “I suggest that you take this opportunity to get it off your chest; and trust me, I _will_ know if you try to mislead me.” The baton was pushed tighter against JG’s vulnerable neck.

She knew that Ferguson knew and hurriedly calculated everything in her portfolio that involved Vera Bennett. “OK, OK! I’ve written nine more stories. But I won’t write any more...” She didn’t think that she could write any more even if she wanted to. She’d grown tired of pairing a woman like Ferguson with the sad, waspish Miss Bennett and was having immense fun entangling her with a couple of other imaginary lovers who, to her mind, were far more suited to this enigmatic creature’s nature.

 

“Nine. You wrote a further nine tall tales even though you knew it to be against my wishes?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve succeeded in publishing them too, I understand.” Joan's voice dropped to a whisper, “I’d be very interested to know how you managed to access the internet. It’s my understanding that all web enabled computers in this facility are password protected and that after your last escapade, extra security measures apply.” JG held her breath. Did the Governor know that she’d managed to guess Bakula’s log-on details? What idiot used ‘Password1!’ in this day and age anyway? He was just begging for someone to steal his identity! “Who gave you access?” Joan slid the baton up JG’s neck until it snugged against the angle of her jaw. The hard rod traced the curve from ear to lips, the textured rubber handle passing so close to her face that JG couldn’t even focus on it. “Who. Gave. You. Access?” she repeated, her lips tightened at JG’s dumb insolence. “Was it an officer?” She raised the baton, forcing JG’s head back until she was staring at the ceiling. “Was it?”

JG bit her lip and looked sideways at Governor Ferguson – if they both turned their faces a little they would be close enough to kiss…

 

Allowing that line of questioning to drop for the moment Joan addressed the other burning issue. “So, from your continued story telling am I to take it that you still suppose Miss Bennett and myself to be les-bians?” she paused, her intensity stretching out the seconds until JG swore she could hear them vibrating under the tension. “Do you suppose us to be entangled in an illiciT relationshiP?” JG watched her out of the corner of her eye. “Does it please you,” Joan continued, “to imagine me touching another woman? Pleasuring her in unnatural situations?” Despite her irritation at a prisoner taking such liberties, Joan had to admit that she also found the premise rather titillating.

JG felt Ferguson draw even closer. Her whole body burned with arousal and she clamped her thighs together. “Yeah, it pleases me,” she croaked.

 

The night stick left JG’s jaw and slithered down her neck and across the Governor’s forearm to rest in the vee of her hoody. With a controlled pressure Ferguson forced the zip down, parting the soft grey material as the hard tip snaked down her belly and into the valley between her legs before it was slapped across her hip bones. JG quivered as the smooth rod slipped upwards and tickled her flank. She quaked softly as it travelled up her ribs and the Governor lifted the weight of her left breast, pushing the baton hard into the soft under swell. JG drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes willing a gloved hand to follow and crush the tender flesh.

But no, instead, the black shaft sipped back out of the jacket. Ferguson spun it in her practiced hand and hooked the handgrip between JG’s legs; she yanked it upwards, slamming the rubber hard into an aching slit. Fuck! JG gasped and rubbed her swollen lips against the welcome inflexibility, opening herself up and grinding her stiff clit against the instrument of control. She let out a harsh gasp. She was so wet it was indecent!

 

“Do you think that I’m enjoying this?” Joan whispered into her ear. “Do you believe that I take any pleasure in addressing your continued failings? She released JG’s shoulders and trailed her hand down to her wiggling hip, drawing her own thighs against the denim clad curves of the remand prisoner. 

“If you don’t enjoy it why do you get insist on getting so up close and personal? Anyone else would just charge and slot me…”

“Because you,” she yanked the baton hard to emphasise her point, “are deserving of my personal attention. I find your continual insistence that I am an invert and a deviant a point worthy of discussion.” Joan spun her around, forcefully pushing her backwards into the rough wall. Her eyes danced over the excited woman’s face, then down to her quivering tits; taking a moment to appreciate how prettily they pushed against the white cotton Tee, before returning her gaze to Glove’s. She’d met women like this before, women who liked to flirt with pain and danger, women who broke the rules that they thought didn’t apply to them; and indeed, there _were_ many rules that didn’t apply to them, but Joan regarded her word as inviolable - especially here in Wentworth - and she applied it with the expectation of total compliance. Disobedience would not be tolerated.

 

“So, I have to ask… have you read any of my stories?” A wicked thought came into JG’s head. “Or did Miss Bennett just summarise the key points for you?” She gave a low chuckle and took a step towards the imposing creature in dark grey. “Oh, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation!” Her face was inches from the Governor’s and she drank in the handsome beauty that came with age and experience.

Strong fingers gripped her chin and she had no option but to meet Ferguson's flinty stare. “Do you think that this is a laughing matter, Glove?” she demanded icily. “Miss Bennett is, of course, aware of their existence but I do not believe that she has taken the time to actually apprise herself fully of their content. I, on the other hand have taken particular interest in my supposed activities.” Joan cocked her head thoughtfully and an amused smile flickered at the corners of her carmine lips, “I appear be rather talented do I not?” she asked rhetorically, her dark eyes mocking the author. “I suppose that I should be grateful that you didn’t have me actually fucK her in your final effort; in fact, I was rather tickled at how I broke Vera's heart. So very bloodless, so very… me!”  

 

Joan’sGlove snaked her head forward and planted a hard kiss on Ferguson’s mouth, her lips teasing the Governor’s out of their faint curl as her tongue worked between them, coming up short against teeth that refused to part. Ferguson remained immobile as JG licked her full bottom lip and then bit it hard, worrying at it as she squinted into dark eyes. The woman tasted faintly of roses and JG slipped her tongue under the full upper lip as she closed the last few inches between them and slid her hands around the Governor’s curvaceous hips. 

Joan broke the kiss by slamming Glove back against the wall and slapping her hard across the face; she couldn’t believe the nerve of this prisoner, she was taking dangerous liberties that could be her undoing. Her thoughts were interrupted as Glove surged forward once more and grabbed her by the ears before forcing another kiss on her. Joan recoiled but could not dislodge the tall woman. She took two steps back but the prisoner followed, forcing her tongue between Joan's teeth as she opened her mouth to rebuke her. The woman was bold, she’d allow her that much… she shoved her ward away. Her lips burning from the insistence of the younger woman’s desire. Her belly clenching as her body responded to her audacity.

 

So, Glove thought that she could play with the big girls, did she? Joan wiped her mouth and regarded the prisoner with a mirthful mockery. “You’re very sure of yourself. I like that. But you continually overestimate your boundaries. There are rules about touching Correctional staff.” Her left hand flew out and connected hard with the insolent prisoner’s face. Oh, that felt so good! her palm tingled and she did it again, appreciating the mixture of pain and lust that filled the dark grey eyes in front of her. Joan took a measured step back and cracked Joan’sGlove across the right breast, leather gloved knuckles whipping over the erect nipple; she repeated the action on the other breast then slowly trailed her fingers from the ribbed neck of the white T-shirt to the soft peaks that poked through the thin cotton. “Still haven’t removed that jewellery I see. And you’ve moved onto rings I notice…” Her perfect eyebrow arched and once more her lips curled at the edges. She slipped the baton into its holster. “Take off the shirt.”

 

Relishing this imperious order, JG complied. When she was free of the top she saw that Ferguson was swinging a pair of shiny link handcuffs. She chewed her bottom lip, already swelling from the Governor’s love taps, and watched as Ferguson released the serrated single strands in turn and then threaded them through the sturdy steel rings that adorned each rosy nipple before snapping the bracelets shut. The weight of the solid cuffs pulled on her nipples and JG suppressed a groan of pleasure.

From her pocket she extracted a length of chain and clipped one end over the shiny links of the cuffs and the other to a small carabiner attached her slim belt above the crest of her right hip. The Governor moved back and performed a slow, undulating twist of her hips and thighs and JG let out a shuddering sigh as her tits were stretched further. She would never forget the look on the Governor’s face right then – there was something so seductively predatory in her eyes that JG would have given everything she had, everything that she was to be possessed by this goddess in grey.

 

After their initial encounter Joan had decided that Joan’sGlove was a good bet for a discreet and interesting fuck. The woman seemed to regard herself as an equal and Joan was minded to allow her this little fantasy. She was proving to be unpopular with the women – aloof from their petty games and dismissive of those that sought her intimate company; she refused to dumb down to the lowest common denominator – she approved that, in fact she approved of quite a lot about Joan’sGlove, particularly her exceptional height - and especially the way she wore bruises… She had definite promise. Gripping Glove’s chin, Joan drew the woman away from the wall and slipped behind her; she grabbed a handful of feathery mohawk and yanked the inmate’s head back as she twisted her hips again, welcoming the hot shiver that ran through her core as the utilitarian serge of her trousers caressed her inner thighs and the middle seam tickled the mass of pubic hair covering her sensitive quim.

 

The chain pulled delightfully across JG’s ribs and waist and each vibration from the clip as it slipped over a shiny link fuelled the dull ache that filled her breasts and fed the tightening burn in her cunt, making her melt into the sturdy frame of Joan Ferguson and grind her arse into the perfectly positioned groin behind her. The Governor’s hot breath in her ear was doing wonderful things to her senses and she gripped blindly at the rough grey fabric encasing the long thighs that supported her as her own trembling legs threatened to give way.

JG’s eyes grew wide as the Governor reached around her and she felt leather clad fingers work the stud of her jeans and lower the zip, then one hand inch its way inside and around her bare hip to squeeze her arse cheek – hard – as the other skated up her ribs to grip a cold metal bracelet and twist it with a practised touch. “Is this the type of activity you believe I enjoy undertaking, hmmm?” Ferguson’s voice was like brushed silk. JG’s lids fluttered shut as Ferguson thrust her tongue into her ear and the hot, rasping wetness made her convulse involuntarily, the sudden movement stretching her swollen nipples yet further. Jesus fucken Christ! Her clit fired out bolts of thigh weakening, belly clenching pleasure – a bit more of this and she would come where she stood, no other stimuli required!

 

Feeling the urgent need to touch this dangerous, fantastical creature, JG slid a hand behind her and between Ferguson’s parted thighs, it fitted the curve of the older woman’s vulva exactly and she dug her fingers into the soft yielding core whilst her palm crushed the firm clit that was still curtained by full lips. The heat radiating from the Governor’s crotch was astounding and JG pressed her middle finger hard into the cleft and rubbed her palm firmly against the soft mass it cradled. Her tits were yanked harder and she heard the Governor hiss, and then the cuffs were released as the tongue left her ear and the gloved hand shot to her throat to tighten around the soft skin. Her own fingers curled into a steely claw and a low growl sounded behind her as Ferguson began to push into JG’s grip.

With a certain degree of daring, she slipped her other hand behind her back and sought out the Governor’s neat belt buckle with clumsy fingers – she was so excited! Ferguson stiffened and her hand was gripped tightly and forced painfully up between her shoulder blades. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl!” she warned gruffly and her fingers slipped from around JG’s throat to cruelly pinch the pressure point in her neck.

 

Joan unclipped the carabiner from her belt and pushed the precocious woman away from her. It was difficult not to get swept up in the moment with such a choice piece squirming in her grip but she was in charge here. She led the prisoner to an overhead tangle of pipes, reaching up she attached it to a handy bracket. She took an echoing step and filled every inch of JG’s personal space. Her uniformed breasts rubbed JG’s bare, swollen nipples and she moved her face so close that JG thought that she was about to kiss her. Instead, the beautiful woman teased her, she felt matte lipstick brushing the fine hairs on her cheek, her eyelashes, hot breath falling on her lips, the smell of Ferguson invading her nose. She opened her mouth and breathed the woman in, arranging her features in the most alluring expression she could manage given the undue distractions.

 

Joan pulled back a little to take in the sexy squint of the prisoner’s dark grey eyes and the saucy little smile that played on her full lips. She responded with a small, seductive smile of her own, a subtle lift of her eyebrow inviting the prisoner closer. Glove threw caution to the wind and kissed her again. One hand gripped the back of her neck tightly and the other snaked around her waist and pulled their well-matched bodies together, and Joan’s smile widened against the soft lips covering her own.

She had to fight to get her tongue into the maddening woman’s mouth but once she’d succeeded in worming her way in, the Governor relaxed her jaw a little and submitted briefly to JG’s frantic exploration before jerking her face away. “Oh, come on!” pleaded JG, “just kiss me!”

 

Ferguson's black eyes gave nothing away but her breathing told JG all she needed to know. She memorised the curve of Ferguson's muscles as her hand slid down her back and she grabbed a large, firm buttock, bullying a determined knee between the Governor's and pressing her thigh hard against her darkly trousered crotch whilst the handcuffs pulled harshly on her nipples. She stood immobile as JG worked her hips, then slowly, her gloved hands found their way to naked breasts and she squeezed them hard, fingers sliding through the cuffs and grinding the unforgiving steel into the mass of hot flesh that filled her palms, making JG jerk and moan as the sensation bit deep in her core. So focused was she on the Governor’s hot stare and the liquid fire between her legs that she didn’t notice that Ferguson had unclipped the chain until her nipples were dragged downwards with a sudden tug and she was forced to relinquish their clinch.

 

Straightening up, she rocked back on her heels as Ferguson's open palm flashed across her cheek, and she gaped at the fantastic, searing pain before her open lips were cruelly smashed against her teeth as the partnering backhand whipped her face round to the side. “Assaulting an officer, especially the Governor, in the course of their duties is a very serious offence,” crooned the Governor as she tenderly stroked the smarting skin.

She was slapped again and again, and again…. Not once trying to evade the blows she fixed her eyes firmly on the ugly/beautiful creature before her as she meted out her punishment with a dispassionate expression on her handsome face. God how she wanted this woman! If she could fuck half as good as she could slap then…… JG’s mind whirled with scandalously filthy scenarios and her cunt pulsed hard enough to throw her off balance.

 

Breathing heavily, Joan lowered her hand to her side. Her palm stung and ached in the most pleasing manner, the hot pulse matching the sharp, sticky beat between her thighs. Not once had Glove cried out. Her gasps were not ones of fear but of want and need and desire – she liked that in her women.

She coolly regarded JG’s damaged face and tutted. “Oh, look at you. Now this will never do.”  With a flick of her fingers she motioned for her remain where she was and casually wandered over to a shadowy corner, returning with a bottle of water that she used to moisten her handkerchief and gently wipe away the smears of blood from JG’s cheeks and chin before cleaning up her supple leather gloves. She allowed her guest a mouthful or two of water then returned the bottle to its place in the shadows. JG drank in every movement the powerful woman made as her face burned and throbbed in time with her clit and she fantasised (and not for the first time) what lay beneath that uniform of hers. She was imagining what Ferguson would look like with her hair spilling over her bare shoulders as she returned to stand in front of her. Stunning, she decided.

 

Lazily caressing her jawline, Joan pressed her thumb into Joan’sGlove’s swollen lip and idly surveyed the colour change as she released the tender flesh. “That’s going to leave a pretty bruise,” she remarked with a seductive twist of her lips. “Think of me every time you touch it, won’t you? Remember it the next time you get the urge to jot down another of your little pieces of fiction.”

“Yeah,” laughed JG, “fiction. Right.” Ferguson might not be on with Bennett, but she suspected, almost knew that there was plenty of truth to her stories nonetheless.

Joan leaned in and fixed the irreverent younger woman with a hard, black stare. “As you know,” she whispered hotly, “any infraction of the rules concerns me. But,” she wrapped her gloved hand around JG’s throat “it concerns me more that you find it necessary to fabricate my personal life and publish it for all and sundry to salivate over.”

 

She paused for a moment to sweep her gaze over the prisoner. “You writers…” she said with sudden disdain and seemed about to say something else but she stopped herself. “You know, what you _think_ is happening to you now isn’t really. What you _think_ you know to be true is actually a fantasy. What you _imagine_ I did to Miss Bennett is just that - wishful thinking on your part, so yes, I deem fiction to be the correcT term.” She stared hard into JG’s eyes. “Don’t you?” she suggested with a subtle tilt of her sleek head.

 

Fingers flowed over the soft column of her neck, pausing briefly to caress the larynx before rounding the angle of JG’s jaw and toying once more with her bruised lips. “But I am intrigued as to why I fire your imagination so… Is it the uniform, hmmm?” Joan traced the bow of JG’s lower lip with her thumb. JG almost choked as she tried to swallow and gasp at the same time. Her clit hammered madly inside her tight jeans. The Governor continued. “Do you get hot for a woman in authority, a woman with power? Or is it just how I look in mine?” She stood back and regarded the inmate as Joan'sGlove raked her figure with lust filled eyes. “Yes, you like how I look, don’t you? But you like my power more. I’ll let you into a little secret,” she leaned forward and murmured “so do I.”

 

Her handsome face was softened by a knowing smirk as JG’s gaze flickered feverishly over her body. “Bet you’d like to see what’s underneath it too, wouldn’t you?” She smiled coquettishly and JG’s lips quivered with longing. “If you behave yourself I may even let you. How does that sound, hmmm?”

She nearly collapsed at the thought and croaked, “don’t tease me if you don’t mean it.”

“Who says that I don’t mean it?” enquired Ferguson innocently and cupped JG’s hot cheek as she slipped behind her.

Measured footsteps disappeared into the background hum of the boiler room and as she waited for the Governor to make her next move, images of Ferguson in various (and extremely revealing) states of undress tormented her heightened need until her cunt felt like it was made of burning oil. Jesus, she had it bad!

 

A gloved hand on her bare shoulders shocked out of her erotic reverie – fuck, she’d been so engrossed she hadn’t heard Ferguson return – and her body shook in helpless response as fingers trailed her down long arms before a pair of solid cuffs snapped swiftly around her wrists. Her eyes widened as she felt her jeans dragged roughly down to her ankles, effectively hobbling her like a pony, and her balance momentarily deserted her. Ferguson caught her as she swayed, and in the heat of her sure embrace JG had a fleeting (and overwhelming) sense of what it would be like to be cradled and cared for by this enigma. “Now, I’m sure that you’ve done this before in some trust building exercise somewhere – lean back into me, I’ll support you.” The Governor’s voice was soft, reassuring and infinitely sexy.

JG had no doubt that this was the truth yet her stomach still gave a little lurch as she flexed her toes and let gravity take her. Bare shoulders met smooth cotton instead of rough serge and the realisation hit her - Ferguson had taken off her jacket! Intense heat flowed through the layer of thin fabric causing JG to shiver in lust as she bore her weight with surprising ease.

 

JG sighed as the Governor’s leather clad fingers drew exquisite patterns over her breasts, and as she helplessly ground her thighs together with each expert chafe of her nipples. “I don’t believe that we have yet managed to established just who gave you access to the internet have we, hmmm?” murmured Ferguson. Her right hand flashed in front of her face and JG saw that the first two fingers were tipped with shiny spikes. “Who gave you access?” The spikes dimpled the sensitive underswell of JG’s left breast.

“No one!” she exclaimed weakly.

“Who?” The spikes bit deeper and JG’s knees threatened to buckle as her cunt clenched involuntarily.

“No one! I told you!”

The shiny metal scored up to her sternum, making her toes curl as she bit her lip. “I don’t believe you.” Ferguson moved her fingers to the smooth skin behind JG’s ear. “Who was it? I want their name.”

“What is this? The kinky version of the Gom Jabbar?” She joked nervously, and suddenly wondered if Ferguson would know what she was babbling about.

“Do I look like a Bene Gesserit?”

“In a way. You’d make a good Mother Superior, a hot one too…” she risked.

“It’s a shame these aren’t poisoned,” said Ferguson with a touch of sadness and pressed the points into delicate skin, “otherwise I’d have my answer straight away. No matter, they still serve their purpose.” She dragged the sharpened steel fangs down JG’s neck until they pressed painfully into the hollow of her throat. Two thin red lines marked their path, standing out in sharp contrast to the pale skin. Breathing fast, JG tilted her head back into Ferguson's shoulder and her fingers fluttered behind her until they encountered the warm fabric of the Governor’s trousers. She swung her arms back, feeling Ferguson’s burning heat on her bare skin, and once more sought out the soft flesh of her mound.

 

Joan let out a small groan of contentment as the prisoner fitted her palm around her cunt. It was rather refreshing to have a lover (well, almost) already versed in the intricacies of pain. She reflexively tightened her grip on the long neck and pressed her cheek against the side of her shaven skull, lips parted and teeth bared as she allowed herself a moment of pleasure. Her left hand twitched and she pinched the taut nipple between her gloved fingers as she scraped her steel tips deliberately across JG’s windpipe. “Who. Gave. You. Ac-cess?”

“I guessed the password! It wasn’t hard!” Her fingers kneaded the Governor’s swollen lips and her other hand clutched at her firm thigh.

“Guessed it, eh? My, how enterprising of you!” Joan drawled, only half believing her. “And other that posting _erotica,_ what else have you been up to during your illicit sessions? Accessing prisoner’s files? Staff files? Watching porn?” she paused and pushed herself against the prisoner’s hand as a hot shiver ran through her.

“Florists.”

Ferguson couldn’t hide her surprise. “Huh!” she exclaimed thoughtfully. “Florists?”

“Yeah. Did you like the roses?” Her middle finger stroked the hot cleft and with an indrawn sigh the Governor’s grip relaxed and her open mouth slid against JG’s ear.

“They were from you?” she breathed. She’d been thoroughly intrigued and torn between being suspicious and immensely flattered when the huge arrangement of thorny yellow blooms had arrived in her office unannounced. She’d initially suspected Vera but one glimpse of the jealousy in her eyes had confirmed that it wasn’t her. “Why?” she asked with more than a trace of bemusement.

 

“Why do you think? Regard them as a thank you for last time.” Joan’sGlove twisted her neck and stared up into Joan's liquid eyes. “Who knows, next time we might be lying on a bed of them instead of making do in the boiler room?” She bent her wrist and insinuated her fingers further between the hot thighs. “Perhaps you’ll permit me to trace the curves of your breasts with a bloom, maybe tickle you here…” she wiggled her fingers, “until you can bear it no longer and ask for my mouth…” Lifting her chin she grazed Joan's lips with her own.

“And maybe I’ll cut their heads off and beat you with the thorny stems.” The exciting image of bloodied welts marking the prisoner’s pale skin made her scalp prickle and she gave a great sigh of something approaching longing.

“Maye you will… Who says that romance is dead, eh?”

“Romance? Oh, this isn’t romance, Glove,” chuckled Joan dismissively and, gripping the prisoner’s chin, forced her to face front and centre once more.

“No? Then what would you call it, eh?”

Joan smiled to herself, “I call it cor-rect-ion.”

 

Spikes stowed safely away in a pocket, her hands slipped around her captive’s shoulders and, fingers digging into the bone and muscle until JG swallowed with an audible click, Joan ground against the intrusion of JG’s busy fingers.  “I think,” she murmured huskily as a heavy warmth flowed through her long limbs,” that you have altogether the wrong impression of me…”

“Maybe it’s you that’s got the wrong impression.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Joan curtly and pushed JG away, “I don’t believe so.”

 

A tight cord was bound around her upper arms, pulling her elbows together until her muscles complained in the most pleasant way. JG was torn between trepidation and exhilaration, and her heart was hammering like crazy as her imagination ran wild. She desperately wished that she could see Ferguson, see just how much pleasure she must be taking in trussing her up like this

“Now, Glove,” purred Joan. “Let’s just make you nice and secure and then we’ll see if we can’t get you to tell the truth, hmm?” She reattached the dangling chain to the cuffs hanging from JG’s out-thrust breasts and spun the prisoner around to face her. “You see, I’m not convinced by your little story. It all seems a little too, ah, convenient? And of course, you have yet to apologise for disobeying my orders.”

JG was mesmerised by the Governor’s black stare. In it she could see the pride and assured arrogance that came with her position but it was clouded by a disappointed expectation - almost annoyance – yet beneath it all was a liquid glint of arousal that cut through her sense of self-preservation and fuelled the reckless desire to be possessed by the hottest woman she’d ever met. She didn’t care what Ferguson did to her, she’d endure it as long as it was _her_ doing it!

 

She experienced a fleeting pang of loss as Ferguson slowly retreated but was consoled by the realisation that not only was the Governor in shirtsleeves (and not one with the usual breast pockets or shoulder tabs either), it was all too obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and JG’s gaze was drawn to the way that the soft cotton cradled the sumptuous swell. Ohh, what she wouldn’t give for the merest glimpse of that delectable cleavage! And then she was gone, swallowed up by the gloom as she disappeared amongst the pipes.

 

Easing her long fingers from her gloves, Joan observed Joan'sGlove from a shadowy alcove. The damn woman thought that this was a bloody seduction, that by provoking punishment she could force a connection between them. Joan snorted at the preposterous notion, yet it could become problematic she mused as she rolled up her sleeves. Her eyes fell on the slim device propped against the wall and she realised that she would have to take a different tack to the one she had planned. It was a shame though, she’d been looking forward to introducing Glove to the stun baton she’d liberated from the armoury - but then, she philosophised, sometimes you have to cut your coat according to your cloth.

How to punish a masochist, she pondered, when the very word ‘punishment’ stemmed from pain? How should one curb attention-seeking behaviour without giving the offending party exactly what they wanted? Thrusting her hands deep into her trouser pockets she considered her options and fingered the heavy 50-cent piece she’d got in change from the vending machine earlier that evening. A malicious thought occurred to her and she nodded with a sly, self-satisfied grin – yes, she knew what would slow Glove down.

 

Joan approached Glove slowly, putting an extra swagger into each measured, ringing step until she was close enough to hear the prisoner’s breath then stopped and surveyed her captive, dragging her eyes up the long legs and rounded belly, letting them linger on the prominent breasts with their incongruous jewellery before fixing Glove with an expectant stare. “Well?” she demanded with a quirk of her eyebrow and matching tilt of her head.

The hum and whine of the boiler room faded away as she focused on Ferguson. Her perfect hair gleamed under the overhead lights, so smooth and dark above the ivory sweep of her brow. Obsidian eyes glittered in the soft shadow and her luscious carmine mouth held the promise of blood and kisses. JG moaned softly as the Governor crossed her arms beneath her breasts and swollen nipples pushed at the thin cotton.

“I’m waiting…”

Her eyes drifted back to Ferguson's face and she wetted her lips, exploring the deep split by her lower canine as she tested the Governor’s patience. “What do you want me to say?” she said eventually.

“You know what I want you to say, Glove.”

“Do I” she asked insolently.

 

Joan raised her face to the ceiling. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” she said with a sad shake of her sleek head before fastening her gaze on JG once more. She sighed and stepped closer. “Joan'sGlove, you don’t seem to realise the situation you put me in. I’d like to make your stay with us productive, help you find an outlet for your particular proclivities. Perhaps even help you relieve the boredom. But how can I do that if you openly defy me?” Reaching up, she stroked the slim silver chain, testing its play with a gentle plucking motion. “I would have thought that being spanked with a steel ruler would have dampened this rebellious streak of yours but apparently not. It would seem that you require a stronger deterrent, and isn’t it lucky that I have a selection available to me, hm?”

 

Sliding a hand behind her back, Joan unhooked an extendable baton from her belt and, with a snap of her arm, deployed it. “Nice, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally, pleased at how the prisoner’s breath caught in her throat. “But I’m in two minds whether or not I use it.” She touched the cold metal to JG’s leg and smiled as a shiver of lust wracked the woman’s frame. “I tell you what, why don’t we toss a coin to decide the matter? Your call.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the 50-cent piece. The scuffed coin glinted dully as she rolled it between her fingertips, “so then heads or tails? What’s it gonna be?”

“I, er…”

“Come on, call it,” ordered Ferguson as she sent the coin sailing high into the air with a flick of her thumb.

“Tails,” she blurted as Ferguson caught it mid-spin and slapped it on the back of her wrist.

Inspecting the coin’s face, Joan smiled warmly. “Oh, good choice, Glove. Very good choice.” Gripping the centre of the coin between the tips of her thumb and forefinger she held one of the twelve sides to JG’s temple, pinning her with a look of unknown intent, before proceeding to roll it sensuously over the curve of her swollen cheek and jaw, down her neck and chest to the swell of her manacled breast, watching the prisoner’s reaction intently. The poor bitch had no idea what faced her…

 

Had she won or lost on that coin toss? There was no way to tell. Ferguson was still holding the baton and her guts constricted at the thought of being beaten with it, the thought also released a bolt of perverted excitement that grounded violently in her cunt, forcing her eyes closed as a deep, grinding convulsion shook her body. They opened wide as the narrow edge of the coin was replaced by the solid shaft of the baton, and fluttered shut again as Ferguson trailed it down her belly and brought the hard tip to rest against her throbbing clit. The touch was electric. Her damp underwear offered no protection against the insistent jostling of the cool metal and she dissolved into the dark heat that radiated out from her centre, nipples shrilling with pain as her knees weakened and she sagged against the unforgiving rod.

 

She sagged further as Ferguson released the clip, and would have fallen to her knees if she hadn’t been scooped up like a child and all but carried over to the far wall.

Warm hands trailed their way to her wrists sending little sparks of electricity running through her cramped muscles and making her shiver. A sigh escaped her as the solid cuffs were unlocked and the warm hands worked their way up her arms and untied the cord, massaging life back into her shoulders before each palm was placed gently against the painted cinder block. A louder sigh fell from her suddenly dry mouth as Ferguson pressed herself into her back and began to slowly rub against her, crushing her nearly naked body against the chill brick with each purposeful grind of her hips. The flames stoked by the baton became an inferno as the Governor’s lips brushed the back of her neck, and as its fiery intensity ripped through her, everything fell away until there was just her and Ferguson and the promise of what was to come.  Darkness enveloped her, the only light coming from the burning sparks that raced through her like shooting stars, their hot breath the only sound.

 

Abruptly, Ferguson pushed herself away and the sweetness ended. She was still close enough for JG to feel her body heat and her skin tingled in memory as she struggled to regain her senses.

“Are you ready, Joan’sGlove?”

She stared at the beautifully manicured hands planted either side of her head, god how she longed for their touch! “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing that you can’t bear, I promise.”

JG swallowed in anticipation. Part of her was dreading the harsh blows. They would be worse than last time (she knew for sure) and she began to slow her breathing, clearing her mind to better accept and absorb what was about to happen. “Yes.”  


As if from nowhere, Ferguson produced a small sheet of paper and ripped it in half. This was new, thought JG, she’d heard of torture involving paper cuts, but strips of paper? She watched as Ferguson tore off a section and slipped it between the pad of her thumb and the wall. She repeated the process with her index finger, and then the middle one, not stopping until JG was pressing ten pieces of paper to the wall. Moving close enough to kiss her, Ferguson slid the half-dollar piece over the rough surface in front of her face and, her grip heavy on the back of JG’s neck, pushed her head into the wall until the tip of her nose was pressed firmly against the centre of the coin.

 

Arms crossed, Joan lounged against the wall, the paint cool against her temple as she inclined her head to catch the prisoner’s eye “You will hold all of these items in their original position for a period of my choosing,” she explained. If any of them fall, that period will be extended. Each time one falls a further period will be applied.” She smiled in satisfaction as the reality of her punishment set in and dismay registered in the dark grey gaze. “Now, I will ask you once more before we start, who gave you access?” Her smile widened to a malicious grin as indecision flickered over the prisoner’s bruised face. “And these tawdry tales of yours... They will remain unwritten and unpublished, yes?” The woman remained silent and turned her eyes to the pale blue brick in front of her. “Still rebelling, eh? Very well, then I suggest we begin.” Joan checked her watch, “we have hours of fun ahead of us.”

 

A thrill of excitement fluttered in her throat as Glove let the coin fall and faced her. “What are you going to do if I tell you to stuff it, eh? Chuck me in the slot on some trumped-up charge?” She detected a subtle tremor in Glove’s voice but she couldn’t help but be impressed by the woman’s nerve.

“Now, I could,” she agreed, sliding behind her, “but I could also write a little report to the Judge expressing my doubt over your innocence.”

“The evidence speaks for itself.”

“If that were true then you’d have to ask yourself why they remanded you, no? Of course,” she continued, “it’s not certain to work, so I have a much better idea. How about I break a few fingers instead hmm? I expect that you’ll find typing somewhat difficult in a splint?” she tenderly traced the lines of Glove’s middle fingers, from tip to wrist then suddenly dug her thumbs between the second and third metacarpals eliciting a wince of pain. “And imagine how inconvenient it would be if I were to hurt both of your hands.” She allowed the prisoner a few moments to digest her threat. “So, we’re agreed, you’ll submit to this lesson?

“Yes,” came the sullen reply.

“Splendid!”

 

*****

 

The painted masonry quickly grew wet from her warm breath and she cooled her split lip against it. She was to stand here (alone) for an hour. Not that she had any way of measuring it save for literally counting each second. She had to give it to Ferguson, this was a real devious punishment. The Naughty Step! Whilst it would probably do nothing to teach her the error of her ways, she had a sneaking suspicion that she’d think twice before attempting to publish the next story. Ah, the next story… her thoughts turned to one of its juicier parts and she lovingly caressed the characters she’d created.

 

How long had she been here? Cramp crawled through her forearms and the flimsy bits of paper skidded against the smooth paint beneath numb fingertips. The tip of her nose was sore but she had to keep the pressure on or the heavy disc of metal started to slip – there was no way that she wanted to stand here for any longer than necessary, she was already serving an extra twenty minutes for dropping it earlier! She found that by carefully moving her head a little she could alleviate some of the stiffness developing in her neck but always, always, the pressure had to be maintained.

 

She wondered what Ferguson was doing now. Was she back in her office? Was she prowling the silent corridors? She replayed memories of the Governor striding through the prison, her mind’s eye lingering on the sway of her hips. ‘Like jello on springs’ she whispered to herself, she loved that description. Jesus, that woman knew how to move! Her focus travelled to Ferguson’s face, to all those glances and half-smiles that ghosted her sultry mouth. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking - even if you found the nerve to study her eyes, eyes that were sharp and bright with a scary intelligence. With just one look she let you know that not only did she know your deepest, darkest secret but that she would break you with it unless you gave her what she wanted. Now though, now they had a shared secret…

 

JG shivered at the delicious thought. Not only was the Governor a dyke, she was a kinky one too. She shivered again – this time at the chill that licked at her nearly naked body – and her fingers flexed involuntarily, dislodging one of the scraps of paper, and she quickly flattened her palm to the wall to prevent it from falling.  She wondered if that would earn her extra time. Maybe if she gave Bakula up Ferguson might overlook it. But if she told her then she could kiss goodbye to one of the few things that were keeping her sane in this hole – well, for a while anyway. There were always ways and means of getting what you wanted in here, but it was never cheap.

 

She was shaken once more as a sudden, penetrating yawn stole over her and she winced as the split in her lip opened up. God, what she wouldn’t give to stretch right now, anything just to work some life back into her leaden body. Once again, she congratulated Ferguson on her ingenious punishment but she’d be damned if she’d let her see how well it worked – even if she had to stand here all night! Then again, she thought, Ferguson could quite easily stop her computer privileges and take away all her writing materials if she wanted… And the use of her hands. So, if she made her think that this _was_ an effective punishment and she played the contrition card then she should be able to carry on as before and worry about posting fics as and when the situation arose. In the meantime, perhaps she could ask for Ferguson's help in finding a suitable outlet for her ‘particular proclivities’.

She guessed at another ten long minutes passing (but it could have been less) when she heard the snick of the boiler room door opening and closing, and JG strained her ears for the familiar footfall of the Governor. Ah, there they were, coming closer. A prickle of anticipation raced across her skin.

 

Ferguson's uniform brushed against her bare back as she inspected the scraps of paper. “Hmm” was all she said as she touched the out of place piece and JG swallowed as she slid around her shoulder to check on the half-dollar.

“I trust that you have had sufficient time to think about your situation?” she asked leaning against the wall.

JG kept her eyes fixed on the blue paint in front of her. “Yes, Governor.”

“Good, in that case you’ll tell me which of my staff gave you access?” She eyed JG expectantly. “If a member of my staff is in breach of the regulations then, as Governor, I must be made aware. Of course, I understand that your behaviour is, in part, a product of your environment, it’s to be expected that you would take advantage of any opportunity that came your way, but I will not tolerate lax security.”

Here goes nothing she thought to herself and looked at Ferguson. “I guessed. Trust me,” she continued as Ferguson scoffed in disbelief, “with some of the Neanderthals you’ve got working around this place, it wasn’t hard.”

“Oh, come on, Glove!” she drawled. “You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to convince me!”

“I’ve no reason to lie, Miss Ferguson.”

“Then whose password did you guess?” JG turned her gaze back to the wall and sighed pensively. “We can do this all night of we have to, but I do have a life outside of here that I’d like to get on with. So, whose, Glove?”

“Mr Bakula’s,” she answered dispiritedly.

“Thank you. It wasn’t so hard now, was it, hm?”

 

“And so, to the matter of your literary endeavours. Do you regret writing those stories?”

“No.”

 “Knowing how I feel about them, do you think that you should have written those additional stories?”

“It’s not a case of should or shouldn’t.”

“No? Explain if you would.”

JG licked her lips, her glib words suddenly failing her. “It… it’s beyond my control,” she managed finally.

“Beyond your control?” mocked the Governor. “How so?”

“I have all of these thoughts in my head, and they’re so strong that I can’t think of anything else. They, they get me so het up that if I don’t write them down then I, I,”

“Go on.”

“It’s like I’m on permanent heat or something. Sometimes I can barely walk it’s so bad. Writing it down helps get it out of my system or something.” She stared pleadingly at Ferguson.

“You're having me on, surely?”

“No. Blood oath I’m not, Governor!”

 

Ferguson regarded her coolly for a moment as if weighing up her sincerity. “That may be true, and I appreciate that you seek to exorcise such feelings by creating these erotic tableaux, however, you have no excuse for posting them on the net. Do you intend to write more on the topic of my libido?”

JG hesitated. “Probably,” she admitted.

“And will you feel the need to publish your new stories on that site?” JG held back from answering. It wouldn’t kill her to do as Ferguson asked – there’d be plenty of time later, she reasoned. “Will you?” asked Ferguson again. With no answer forthcoming, Ferguson pushed herself away from the wall and began pacing up and down behind her. “Glove,” she said at last, “if you are unwilling to correct your own behaviour then I may be forced to remind you just how difficult pencils are to grip when your fingers are strapped up.”

 

JG knew that something had to give, and it had to be her. She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff of resignation then said: “I promise that I won’t publish any more stories about you and Wentworth, Miss Ferguson.”

“You promised me the same thing once before and look what happened. Why should I believe you now?” She paused and moved close again, planting a gloved hand on either side of JG’s as she leant in and brushed her mouth against her ear. “You know,” she murmured, “it seems to me that you wanted this to happen. You wanted me to find out and be forced to cor-rect your wayward behaviour. True or false?”

“I didn’t promise you anything before, Miss Ferguson.”

“Strictly speaking, I suppose not. But as we established earlier, you are fully aware that it brought, and still brings me great displeasure. You know,” she continued, “whilst addressing your misdemeanours has its moments, I’m perfectly happy to help you ‘get it out of your system’ without any of this pretence. Wouldn’t you prefer that?” She stroked the piece of paper under JG’s pinky with her thumb then pressed her uniformed body into her naked one. “Did you really think that you had to do this to bring yourself to my attention? Don’t you think,” she whispered and paused, slipping a hand between their bodies to trail a finger down JG’s spine, “that I am fully aware of your charms?” 

 

Breath trickled from her throat as she shivered involuntarily under Ferguson's touch. “I, I didn’t plan it this way,” she croaked, the significance of the Governor’s words filtering into her brain and making her blood pound like molten lava in her veins.

“So, it’s just a happy coincidence then, yes?” Ferguson's fingers toyed with the waistband of JG’s underwear.

“Yes.” The brick was cool against her hot skin as she sagged into the wall, willing Ferguson to push her hand inside her knickers and finish what she’d started. She ached to turn around and pull Ferguson close, to steal another hot kiss as she fitted herself into the Governor’s mature curves.

“Hmm, well. I’m not a great believer in coincidence. Another occurrence and I’ll consider it a distincT pattern,” Ferguson informed her and released the thin strip of elastic with an audible snap. “And trust me, third time is _not_ the charm. No matter, I’m confident that you are intelligent enough to appreciate the benefits of behaving yourself…” JG bit her sore lip as Ferguson's hand settled on her shoulder and slid sensuously along her arm until, once more, it rested alongside her outstretched fingers. “I’m sure that neither of us wants a repeat of this last hour or so, mm?” 

“No.”

“’No’, what?”

“No, Governor.”

“And you understand what you have to gain by keeping your word, yes?”

Ferguson would fuck her – that’s what was at stake!  No one in their right mind would jeopardise that! “Yes, Governor. I understand.” She stared at one of Ferguson's black clad hands, longing for it to touch her again.  

“Good.” Cool air stroked her back as Ferguson retreated and JG’s ears strained as she vainly tried to work out what she was doing. The woman could be as silent as a ghost when she wanted to be, she thought as all she heard was her own pulse thudding in her dry throat.

 

Joan checked her watch and pulled up mental picture of the duty roster. H block would be empty for the next twenty minutes, plenty of time to conclude tonight’s business. “I think that’s enough, don’t you? You may step away now.” She felt her lips twitch themselves into an appreciative pout as she watched Glove shuffle backwards and stretch out her cramped muscles. She didn’t try to hide it either as Glove looked over her shoulder, seeking further instruction.

“The coin please.” she said, nodding to where it lay. Obediently, Glove squatted down with an accompanying soundtrack of pops and cracks from her stiff joints, and turned as she straightened up, offering it out towards her.

 

The parallel marks of her fingers glowed hotly against the pale skin of Glove’s cheek and Joan admired the rash of darkening bruises adorning her swollen mouth. She was tempted to kiss each blemish but it wasn’t appropriate right now. There’d be plenty of other nights, though – it wasn’t as if Glove were going anywhere soon – she could wait. Taking the coin from Glove’s hand she balanced it on her thumbnail. “Heads or tails?”

She’d had no luck with tails earlier so she reasoned that this time around the opposite should be true. “Tails.” Her mind buzzing with dirty thoughts, JG followed the transit of the half-dollar as it looped into the air and watched intently as Ferguson caught it in her palm and slapped it on her wrist.

 

The prisoner’s eyes were wide with excited anticipation as they flickered over her face, and Joan almost laughed at the woman’s eagerness. Did she really think that she was going to get her off tonight? So soon after learning her lesson? Not likely. Joan glanced at the coin’s face and offered a disappointed smile. “Oh, what a shame!” she declared with a sorrowful grimace, and tucked it away in her pocket. The look on Glove’s face was priceless!

“Dress yourself,” she ordered, and settled back against a silver-jacketed pipe to supervise. “I’m sure you’d like to be getting back to your bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and who knows, perhaps an even longer night, hmm?”


End file.
